


Annie Greer's Brand New Boy Child

by NotTasha



Series: Annie Greer Saga [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, young ezra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 23:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5985195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotTasha/pseuds/NotTasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A widow is tricked into taking Young Ezra into her home.  They have to figure out how to handle this.  This is the first story in my Annie Greer Saga, dealing with a 9 year old Ezra and how his stay with a lonely woman changes both of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Annie Greer's Brand New Boy Child

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: G   
> SUMMARY: A slice of Ezra's past. Maude drops Ezra on the doorstep of a widow. They cope  
> CATEGORY: Challenge - OW - Little Ezra - Annie Greer Saga  
> MAJOR CHARACTERS: Little Ezra and an OFC  
> DISCLAIMERS: This is fanfiction. No profit involved. This story is based on the television series "The Magnificent Seven". No infringement upon the copyrights held by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp. or any others involved with that production is intended.  
> AWARDS: Winner of the 2006 Mistresses Of Malarkey "Best Gen Series" Award and 'Perfect' Award  
> NOTE: the first Annie Greer story was posted February 12, 2003. It was the answer to a challenge offered by Lady Catherine at the Mag7 Challenge site: to write a story with a three-dimensional female character that is not a Mary Sue. Annie Greer was my attempt to do just that. This series involves an OFC and young Ezra, many years before we came to know him.

Annie Greer fussed and fretted about her house, not knowing what to do anymore. She had swept and mopped the floors, had scrubbed the kitchen and dusted everything – a thorough spring-cleaning in a mild April. The sun had illumined clouds of dust motes as she'd stirred them with her work.

She felt excited. A flush came to her cheeks, and she held her hands up to them, expecting heat. Her heart seemed to beat a little faster. She had pulled back the draperies and the house was bright for the first time in years – chasing the shadows away. Her drab little world, closed off for so many years, finally found some light. 

She didn't deserve such good luck.

The day was growing late as she bustled upstairs and into the nursery for the umpteenth time that day, making sure everything was just perfect. For so many years, it had been only a sewing room. It was strange to see it back to its original purpose, all clean and perfect and ready for its inhabitant.

She picked up the little rattle and shook it experimentally, giggling at the sound it made. She felt giddy. Oh! In a matter of a few minutes, a little hand would clasp that rattle. Finally! 

She touched the crib, running her hand along the oak rail and remembering how she and her husband had chosen it all those years ago. They had been so proud, so excited. They hadn't been able to stop themselves from coming to this room in those early months. His arms would wrap around her and she would lean into him. She'd always felt so safe with him – so absolutely safe. He was so strong, so absolutely solid and perfect.

She settled one hand on her neck as she remembered how his chin had rested there, the tickle of his mustache, the scent of his tobacco, how his voice had sounded in her ear as he spoke of all the things to come.

With an intake of breath, she recalled how he'd held her on the day when her world had come crashing down. Three months shy -- she'd been too weak to bring the child to the world. He'd soothed her, cocooned her in his strength, in his warmth and comfort and love, allaying her fears, putting her self-accusations to rest. And he made more promises -- promises of things that never came to pass.

A simple accident -- a missed a step as he walked home from work – a tremulous message delivered to her door – and it was over. Her life ended the day they told her that her husband had struck his head and never breathed again.

Blinking at the memories, Annie forced herself back to the present. No tears, she told herself, blotting at her eyes with her handkerchief. No tears!

Today, a promise would be realized. The crib had only been a shape covered with a blanket for years. When she'd pulled the coverlet away yesterday morning, the cloud of dust had shocked her. How had so much dirt come to reside there? Certainly, she was a better housekeeper than that!

She'd cleaned and primped. She'd moved out all of her notions and fabric, but the heavy table and the sewing machine would have to wait until she could hire a boy to move it. 

The colors of the fabric had startled her. She had grown so used to black, she'd forgotten that she'd once purchased blue, and green and yellow. Had she actually worn those bright colors? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

She'd found the little things she'd sewn, the wee clothing she's knitted and then stored away -- boxed up and hidden so that she wouldn't have to be reminded. Here were the shirts, the petticoats, the pilches, the frocks and the little caps, nightgowns and plenty of diapers -- all waiting for a newcomer that never came -- until now. 

Her eyes delighted in the sight of these things, envisioning how she'd dress up the new baby like a doll and carry it in her arms. Breathing in deeply, she imagined the scent of the infant -- they always smelt so sweet and perfect -- fresh from heaven. She'd be a good mother – she would – she hoped.

The child would be all her own. Something she could love forever. A little life that would grow up and flourish under her careful watch.

Nervous, she looked to a small gown that she'd knitted over five years ago. So soft and sweet! She remembered sitting in their parlor with her needles, making the little garment with her own hands as Harry read his newspaper, watching over her. She remembered his blue eyes and his smile. 

With a careful hand, she draped the gown over the edge of the crib so that it would be ready.

She couldn't sit still! She hadn't found any sleep since yesterday. A buzzing excitement filled her.

With a quick motion, she turned, leaving the room to walk down the stairs and into the dining room, where the tin bathtub waited, with its softest washcloth, tiny towels and a cake of white Windsor soap. The baby-chair sat beside the table; on the tray were the little cup and bowl, the small spoon. She touched the items tenderly, pushing them apart and then setting them again in perfect formation. He'd be too young for these, most likely, but it was good to see them out again. The chair had been stored inside the crib for so long that she'd forgotten how it looked. It was like buying it 'new' all over again.

Her tea set waited -- ready for company. The new bottle rested on the counter and extra milk had been delivered this morning. She'd have to raise the baby by hand, but that was only a small hurdle. Other than that, it would be exactly as if she'd had the child herself.

Unable to improve the dining room, she headed to the parlor. The pianoforte took up one corner of the room, and the rest was filled with the pretty furniture that she'd picked out with Harold. 

Harold -- she turned to the photograph that took a place of honor on the piano. She smiled as she gazed upon his sepia image. The man in the photo was box-jawed, with light hair and a carefully trimmed mustache. He had regarded the world with a look of intelligence, kindness and fortitude.

"Harry," she whispered as she approached the photograph. "I'm so excited…I…I did something," she bit her lip. "I did something peculiar and…" She glanced away, as if she couldn't meet his eyes. "Oh, you'd be so surprised, Harry. You'd be amazed. You wouldn't think I had it in me." 

With a small smile, and still not looking at the photo, she uttered, "We're having a baby, Harry -- just like we always wanted, just like before, except this time… this time it's for sure. I won't do something wrong. He's coming today."

Her gaze traveling, she caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror. She was short and slim, with mousy brown hair done up in a bun. Her eyes, framed in spectacles, were too small and close, and her face was too plain to be pretty. What had Harold seen in her? 

She smoothed her faded black dress petulantly and then turned back to the image of her husband. "I know I've been keeping it a secret from you. You'll think I'm so silly. You'll think I'm foolish, but I met this woman three days ago. She walked by as I was sweeping the front porch. We talked, Harry, and she was very sweet. She does wonderful things for little babies. She takes them in when no one else wants them and finds new homes – good homes. She's almost a saint! And we talked about things. It was almost like she already knew me."

Annie played with the dark sash on her dress. "I don't know how we came to the subject, but she told me she could find a child for me. She just needed a small fee and she'd bring me one." Still fiddling with the cloth, she uttered, "I got a message from her yesterday that she'd found a boy – for us." She looked at the picture again, seeing the strong features, the pleasant smile and the eyes that had once been blue. "Just like we wanted, Harry, a boy. She's bringing him today. It'll be like he was our own. He must be just-born because he doesn't even have a name yet. I was thinking that I'd name him after you."

With a silly laugh she continued, "I don't know how I'll explain it to everyone. Maybe they'll believe it's a miracle! Me…with a baby. But, we'll make it work, won't we, Harry?" she implored the photograph that remained mute -- as it had for five years. "They won't think it's odd that I adopted, will they?"

"He'll be so tiny, so sweet," Annie continued. She formed a cradle with her arms. "It will feel so good to finally hold a baby of my very own." Her arms had felt so empty all these years, her heart vacant. "I have so many things to teach him. I can't wait to tell him stories, to feed him, to put on his little shoes, to tuck him in at night, to watch him take his first steps. And his first word will be 'mama', but he'll always know that you are his papa." She smiled sadly, thinking of all the lost years, imagining what her own child might have looked like now.

There was a sharp rap on the door, drawing a surprised gasp from the widow. She turned toward the mirror to ensure that she looked as good as she could and then moved to the entryway. Through the glass, she could see the pretty, blonde woman. 

Maude Severt, the woman from the orphanage, smiled brightly under her gay hat. Feeling almost faint in anticipation, Annie pulled open the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Greer, dear," Maude greeted brightly. "Today's your big day, isn't it?"

Annie's eyes greedily glanced about, looking for the little bundle that would hold her newborn child, looking for a pram -- a carriage -- a basket. Instead, there was just Maude and a boy. The boy, about nine-years-old, stood stiffly on her front porch, with a carpetbag at his feet. He gave her a glance and then looked toward Mrs. Severt as if seeking direction, but Maude didn't look down. 

He was a messenger, Annie decided. The boy would fetch the baby once the transaction was completed. Certainly, they wouldn't be hauling her new child about when everything wasn't official yet.

"Please, Mrs. Severt, come inside," Annie invited. "I'll make tea and…"

The smile continued to glow on Maude's cheery face. "Oh dearie, I'm sorry, but I have no time. There are so many stops to be made. Everyone is interested in adopting little ones today and I can't leave them waiting, now can I?"

"No, of course not," Annie responded, knowing how anxious her own wait had been. The sooner she had her baby, the better.

"Please, if you have my fee, I can give you the paperwork and we'll be done."

"Oh," Annie responded. "Yes, of course." She turned to the hall table and picked up the envelope she'd prepared. "$300. It's exactly as you requested."

"Of course it is, darling," Maude responded, receiving the money and opening the envelope to look inside. She pulled a folded paper from her handbag and handed it to Annie without looking at her -- her attention was still reserved for counting the money. "And here's your documentation."

Holding the paper close to her poor eyes, Annie studied the legal wording of the document. "Do I sign?" she asked, as Maude shoved the envelope into her handbag.

"Yes, yes," the woman said. "And fill in his name when you've decided on it. I've already signed and it was witnessed at the orphanage. Everything is in order." She gave the boy a shove -- presumably to get him to fetch the baby, but the boy picked up the carpet bag and stepped forward into her doorway instead of turning to get his charge. He cast another glance at Mrs. Severt, as if he sought something, and then faced forward.

"He'll behave himself, I hope," she continued. "I'll be back in a month or so to check up on how you're doing. Good-day." And with that, Maude Severt turned abruptly and started down the path toward the gate.

Annie glanced down at the boy, meeting his green eyes. He didn't seem to be budging. A shock of realization came to her and she rushed down the walkway after the woman. "Wait! Wait!"

Maude bustled even faster, reaching the gate and stepping through it. "A deal's a deal, Mrs. Greer," she said, pulling the gate shut behind her.

"A baby! You promised me a baby!" Annie cried, and then sucked in her breath in fear that her neighbors would hear. "A baby," she whispered as she gripped the gate.

"I made no such promise," Maude drawled with disdain. "You must have misinterpreted my meanin'."

Annie's jaw dropped disbelief. "But you told me…"

"I promised to deliver a boy child to your door, and I have. He will behave in a reasonable fashion, I assure you. If he is unruly, don't blame me. I've taught him only the best manners. Now, good day," And she bustled off at a pace that was too quick to be called lady-like.

Annie trembled at the gate, her hands gripping the wood. The terror of leaving her home caught her, as it always did since her Harold passed, and she could only follow the woman's departure with her gaze. She wanted to shout and demand her return, but she was too timid, too quiet, too good. She lowered her head, feeling the tears come again. Lord, she wouldn't let the people on the street see her like this, she just couldn't!

She turned and treaded back to her house, slowing as she caught sight of the boy with the carpetbag still waiting there. He wasn't looking at her. Rather, his gaze trailed Mrs. Severt.

What was she supposed to do with him? Good Gracious! She had a son -- not an infant, not a toddler that she could mold and teach – but a boy. Boys are noisy – dirty – naughty! If they're not brought up right, they'll be unmanageable hooligans, like those boys down at the end of Post Street.

Stiffly, the boy turned his attention to her and waited for her return.

"Well," Annie said, forcing a smile. She pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and daubed at her eyes. What was she supposed to do now? They faced each other, strangers – mother and son. 

"I suppose I could show you to your room," she said, because she didn't know what else would be appropriate.

The child nodded and picked up his valise. "Yes, ma'am," he responded quietly.

Ma'am, should he be calling her that? "I'm your mother now," Annie said as she led the boy into the house. "You should call me 'mama'."

The boy cringed and uttered, "Perhaps not."

"Oh," Annie said, startled by this imprudent reply. Her hand rested on the stair rail as she turned toward the boy. His gaze was even and defiant. Already she was failing at this. Not call her mama? She felt like crawling into a hole. 

"Okay, well." She fretted on the stairway, watching the boy's somber and unwavering expression. "This way," she said because she couldn't think of anything else. She turned and headed up the stairs, her face drawn as she considered this new fact -- that her new son didn't want to call her 'mama'. Gracious! 

She led him to the upstairs room that had always been reserved for a child. Her heart sank as she gazed into the baby's room. "I'm afraid the bed isn't quite right," she uttered, looking at the crib. "I thought…"

"She led you to believe you were getting a baby," the boy summed up.

"I must have misunderstood," Annie told him. "My fault. It must have been my fault. I'm so silly. I can't do anything on my own."

The boy set his valise down and nodded. "It's what she led you to believe." He sighed as he appraised the too-small bed.

"There's a bed in the other room. I'll have them switched." She seemed to brighten. "Yes, that'll work. Nobody uses it anyway. We meant to have guests all the time, but…" she stopped talking, not wanting to think of the past.

The boy nodded, not bothered by the cut-off sentence, his eyes straying to the stenciled hearts and roses she'd painted shortly after her marriage.

Following his gaze, Annie continued, "Or I'll move my sewing things back in here."

The boy nodded again, not seeming to care either way. And they were both silent again.

Annie, nervous in the silence, looked at the document that Maude had handed to her. She held the paper close, squinting through her glasses. The page was filled with official sounding words that seemed to say she was now 'mother' of a child yet to be named. The ink so fresh it smudged to her touch.

"The name is blank," Annie stated. "Why didn't they fill in your name?"

The boy shrugged. "I suppose it's Greer now," he stated.

Pursing her lips at that thought, she continued, "But your first name isn't there. What's your Christian name?"

His voice was soft as he said, "Whatever you want."

"You don't have a name?" Annie stated, her voice high with disbelief.

"Well," the child drawled, "I've been called any of a number of things. Those that are repeatable include, Daniel, Milton, Edward, Eric, Antoine, Robert and -- Ezra. I suppose you can chose from any of them -- or come up with one of your own. One is as good as another." He spoke with a southern accent that didn't seem to come from anywhere in particular.

Annie frowned and her voice became even higher as she declared, "You can't be serious?"

The boy sighed. "Call me whatever you want, it doesn't matter."

Annie stalked away, out of the nursery, down the stairs and toward the front door, wondering if she could catch up to Maude before she got too far. But, as her hand touched the doorknob, she knew that she couldn't. She trembled at the thought of charging down the street in her mourning clothes to find the brightly-dressed woman. What would the neighbors think?

Years ago, she might have been able to do that. In her youth, she would have been capable. Her mother and father took good care of her, sheltering her and ensuring that nothing ever hurt her. Then there was Harold. Oh, she'd always been shy, quiet – but there was a time when she was capable of walking down the street on her own. She trembled as she held the doorknob and hated her weakness.

She turned to find the nameless boy behind her. They stared at each other, the boy's gaze was direct and calm, and she was certain she shook under his scrutiny.

He blinked and looked away, sighing softly as his eyes studied the hardwood flooring.

Well, Annie decided, this was her boy now. She could name him, couldn't she? Maybe it was like naming a cat, a dog. She'd had a cat named Patches when she as a girl. But her mother had named the animal – and the cat used to bite.

Harry! She was going to name her child after her husband, but he looked nothing like Harry. Could this boy be a Harold Greer, Jr.? Would she be able to raise him in the image of her beloved husband? She could start. She could try. She'd make this work. But, it would help to know something about the boy.

After clearing her throat, Annie asked, "Were you in the orphanage long?"

He snorted, and then perhaps remembered his manners as he responded, "No, ma'am."

"Oh, so your parents died recently?" she asked tenderly. "I'm so sorry."

The boy raised his eyes and smiled sheepishly. "It's a bit more complicated."

"Oh." Annie didn't know how to respond to that. "Did Mrs. Severt tell you anything about me?"

The boy shrugged. "She told me you were willin' to pay." He looked embarrassed as he commented, "Look, you seem like a nice lady, and I hate to tell you this, but that paper she gave you means nothing. She doesn't work at an orphanage. She doesn't save poor waifs from a life in the street. You see, she's found a mark." He paused and illustrated, "A man with plenty of money and no wife. She will make him her husband -- and a child is only an anchor when she's working a deal. She needs the freedom move quickly, to be properly courted. Once she's taken him for all he's worth, she'll come back to claim me."

"What do you mean? Is she your mother?"

He nodded solemnly. "She'll be back in a month or so and take me off your hands. You'll undoubtedly be tired of me by then." He shrugged again. "She's done this before."

Her mouth opened, but she didn't know what to say. Her world was tipping over – first, she thought she was the mother of an infant, then she was disappointed to find she was the mother of a half-grown child. Now, to find she didn't even have that – she felt lightheaded. 

Annie looked out the window in the direction that Maude had gone. "She can't be your mother."

He winced, realizing that he'd revealed something he'd have preferred kept silent. "She is," the boy replied. "Indeed she is."

"Don't tell lies!" Annie spat out. He was just pulling a prank on her! Certainly, this was a joke on his part. "A mother wouldn't leave her son like this!"

He took a step back. "She does," he replied. 

His quiet admission was too heartfelt to be a lie. Oh Lord, it was true. Her eyes began to tear again as she realized that she'd never be a mother -- not ever.

Seeing the defeated look on Annie's face, the boy said, "Really, she will be back. You can get rid of me then."

The widow, not knowing what else to do, wandered back toward the kitchen, wringing the handkerchief in her hands. "What am I going to do? I'm stupid. I can't believe I fell for such a wretched scheme. What am I going to do with this boy? Oh, Harry, if only you were here." 

She sat down heavily in one of the dining room chairs. "Harry, oh, Harry. How can I be so foolish?" She wept, wishing she could take back that day and never talk to the southern woman who had passed her house. When Mrs. Severt approached, Annie's first thought had been to shrink back into the shadows, but the stranger had seemed so sweet, so bewilderingly open. 

"I'm such a fool, Harry. Oh, why did you leave me all alone? I can't do anything on my own!"

She sat with her face in her hands, crying into her handkerchief, upset with her stupidity and naiveté. She thought she might have been happy again, thought she might finally have the family she'd longed for -- a baby of her own. Instead, she'd been 'taken' by an unscrupulous woman and ended up with a boy as a lodger.

After a spell, she lifted her head and looked around. The house was perfectly still. "Boy?" she called, and felt stupid for calling him that. But what else was there? "Boy?" .

There was no answer, so she went looking. She picked up the 'adoption' paper from where it had fallen in the hallway and kept looking.

He had returned to the nursery – his assigned room -- and sat with his back against the wall and his carpetbag clutched in his lap. His face was blank. His gaze slowly traveled to meet her face. He looked so lost.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, drying her eyes as she entered the room. "I didn't mean to leave you."

"It's okay," the child responded. "It's not your fault. Mother -- she makes things happen. I'm sorry you were caught up in it." The boy sighed. "I'm sorry that this had to happen to you. You're not the first one she's tricked, but usually she has to pay someone to take me -- not the other way around."

Annie could only nod.

The boy kept talking, as if it was a comfort to him, "She's busy, you see. She has places to go and…" He clutched the carpetbag to his chest. "There was no room for me. I'd be in the way. I can be quite a burden. She'll be back, I swear. She always comes back. She does love me."

"And she just left you here? Not knowing anything about me?" Annie asked.

"She's good at reading people. She does her best to find good places for me. She researches, you know. Sometimes her choices aren't the best but…" Seeing the bewildered look on the woman's face, he continued, "If you don't want me, I can go. I can find someplace." He looked toward the door, but didn't move.

"No, no, you'll stay. We'll make this work." She smiled, trying to look warm and inviting. "It'll be nice."

The boy nodded, seeming amazingly familiar with the decidedly odd situation.

She sat down on the floor beside the boy and asked quietly, "Let's stop this foolishness. What would you like me to call you?"

The boy dipped his head, seeming to study the pattern on his carpetbag. "Ezra," he said softly, as if making the admission was a crime. "My name is Ezra. Mother says it's better to remain nameless though. Nameless is blameless."

"Ezra," she smiled at the name. "You can call me …" She paused as she considered the alternatives. He didn't want to call her 'mama' and it really didn't seem appropriate now. She had ended up with a temporary boy, not a son. When people asked, could she honestly tell them that a woman had dropped the child at her doorstep with false adoption papers? What would they say? No, no she couldn't do that!

"Aunt Anne," she finally decided. Her expression changed as she said, "No, that won't work. People know I have no family left. Mama died when I was twelve, and Papa shortly after I married Mr. Greer."

"What about Mr. Greer's family?" Ezra asked. "You can say I'm related to him."

At the mention of the man, Annie responded quickly, "Oh no, that will never do. I couldn't do that to Harry. He was a good man."

The boy licked his lips as he looked away. "You could say that I was 'remotely' related."

She considered it, and finally said, "I can't lie, Ezra. He had no brothers or sisters."

Ezra contemplated and then said, "I think mother has some relations somewhere named Greer. Maybe we're related somehow."

Astonished, Annie asked, "Truly? She's related to Harold? She can't be! Not a woman like that!"

"Might be. Everyone's related in one way or another." Seeing the skeptical look that Annie gave him, the boy continued, "If someone presses the subject, just tell them you'd rather not talk about it. That covers a wealth of evils."

"They'll think the worst if I say that!" Annie put in. "That makes it sound like someone might have had a child out of wedlock. They might think that you're a…" she stopped herself before she could say the foul word.

Ezra nodded and didn't seem too bothered by this fact.

"People will talk," Annie told him, feeling overwhelmed.

"Let them," Ezra replied. "They talk all the time. It would be best if you ignored their gossip."

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, wondering if she blushed. "Oh, that's the sort of thing Harry always said to me." She remembered Harry calming her all the time. She could still picture his face, remember the sound of his voice, recall his scent, the way he walked, the way he smiled. He was so wise, so kind, so perfect – how could he be gone?

"Now, Annie, my love, make no notice of them."

But they will notice. People will ask questions and she'll have to own up to her stupid mistake. They'll laugh at her, no doubt and say horrible things. She felt her breath quicken as she tried to figure out what to do next.

How could she possibly deal with this situation? If only Harry was with her, she could manage – if she wasn't so alone.

Tears came to her again as she felt the weight of her loneliness, the absence of her beloved Harry. "Why did he have to leave me? I can't do this without you! I just can't!"

Standing quickly, she left the nursery, memories overwhelmed her and she flung herself into her own room.

[(*)][(*)][(*)][(*)]

It was dark when she woke. How could she have fallen asleep? She lifted her head from the comforter and looked around. The room was cold and she was alone – again – always alone.

She sat up, realizing she was a mess, her dress wrinkled and her hair out of place. What would Harry say if she saw her like this? What would he say if he knew she'd gone to her room like a little girl when she had a guest in the house? Patting her face, she sat up with a start. 

Oh Lord, that boy! 

She lit a lamp and shuffled to her feet. The house was dark as she crept out into it.

The door to her guestroom was open, but the lamp showed nothing on the bed besides the yards of cloth that she'd dumped there the day before. The nursery was vacant as well. She gazed at the wall where she'd last seen the child, but even his valise was gone. 

She moved silently down the stairs and through the lower rooms, pausing at the parlor, the kitchen and the dining room without finding him. 

Dear Lord, she prayed, let him be safe. He couldn't have left, could he? That poor little boy. Oh, Harry, what have I done? He's all alone! He's so alone. What have I done? I thought only of myself, and here I was believing I was capable of being a mother. Annie, you behaved so shamefully.

Finally, she paused at the little nook beside the stairs -- her library. There was a bookshelf stuffed full with books, a small table, and a huge comfortable chair – and one small boy. Ezra sat with a book on his lap and a burnt out candle on the table beside him, legs dangling, asleep.

She crouched down, and held one unsteady hand over his sleeping face, afraid to touch him. She truly looked at him for the first time. His boyish features were so lovely. He'd grow to be a handsome man, but there was a sadness to his face as well. She glanced over his clothing, noting the perfect tailoring and the expensive fabric. It looked as if they'd been just purchased. His shoes were of the highest quality and newly shined. He was like a little gentleman asleep in her favorite chair.

He looked so young in his sleep. He'd sounded grown up when he spoke, but now he was just a child, a lonely little boy.

Ezra made a soft sound, something between a sigh and a whimper, drawing a frown to Annie's face.

"Poor thing," she whispered. "Poor, dear thing." She set down her lamp and carefully took the book from the boy's hands. Absently, she noted that the book was one of her Thackerys, and he was already several chapters into it. She set it on the little table beside the chair.

The chair was big enough to swallow up his small frame. If she just shifted him a bit, it would make an adequate bed for the night. She'd just need to make him a little more comfortable. Quietly, she started to unbutton his clever little shoes.

He came awake as she touched him, lifting one hand defensively, yanking his foot from her hands and tucking himself into a ball with a yelp.

"Ezra," she called, bringing one hand to his face, but he jerked away. His sleepy eyes held terror and he swatted almost blindly at her.

"It's me. It's Annie." Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to still his thrashing hands.

Blinking and not entirely in this world, Ezra stilled and scudded away, trying to disappear, but there was nowhere to go. His voice still thick with sleep. "I didn't do anything. I didn't. I swear." He didn't seem to understand where he was and his eyes were round with fear.

"Hush, dear. Hush, it's me. It's only Annie, Annie Greer. Remember me?" she called. "You're safe. You're safe as houses. Look at me, dear. Please!"

He blinked again, gazing back at her. He seemed to calm as he recognized her. He almost smiled, but his face fell as he blushed in embarrassment about the situation. "I'm, I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I was startled. I didn't mean to alarm you. I was …" he glanced about. "Reading something and it distressed me, I think." He fussed at his jacket, not meeting her eyes. "That's all."

Annie frowned, creasing her brow, and wondered how Vanity Fair could bring about that reaction. She wanted to smile encouragingly at Ezra, but failed. It just made her heart sick to think that this little child should awake to such fear. 

The silence between them was too much. She had to do something. "Let's get you out of this." Gently, she took hold of the gentleman's jacket and helped Ezra to remove it. The boy complied easily, either too tired to contest, or too well-mannered to deny her. "It's okay," she said softly, draping the jacket over one corner of the bookshelf.

"I was caught unaware," the boy continued sleepily.

"I know," she replied as she maneuvered the boy into a comfortable position on the overstuffed chair. She recalled that it had been their first piece of furniture. She and Harry would squeeze in, side-by-side and read together in this tiny room. They'd sit so close that they were nearly like one person.

"Go back to sleep," Annie told him. Remembering how he'd reacted before, she asked "Would it be okay if I took off your shoes? You'd be more comfortable, I think." The boy nodded and then watched her with dubious eyes as she eased off his shoes and set them carefully on the floor beside his carpetbag. "I'll get you a blanket, okay? We'll get the guestroom fixed up for you tomorrow. Will this be okay for tonight?"

Ezra nodded again, blinking against the exhaustion. She fluffed up one of the little pillows and settled it under his head, smiling as she smoothed the hair off of his forehead, but her heart still quaked seeing his startled eyes, remembering how he had flinched from her -- little harmless Annie Greer. Good Gracious, why?

"I'll be right back," she promised him, and his gaze followed her has she left him. She hurried to the guestroom and pulled a fresh blanket from the chest. He was asleep by the time she returned. She settled it over him, tucking the soft coverlet around him and she wondered how a young boy could be so afraid. He had seemed so fearless earlier.

On impulse, she gave him a kiss on the forehead, then picked up the lamp and started back to her room. She turned before she left her little library, letting the gentle light of the kerosene lamp fall over the little man.

She sighed and whispered, "Oh Harry, what will I do?"

She watched as Ezra clutched the blanket close to him, holding it tightly as if he expected someone might try to take it from him. I've been so selfish, she thought, thinking only about myself. It's this poor child that's gotten the worst of the deal, left with a silly, stupid widow who doesn't know what to do with him.

She leaned her head against the doorframe and prayed for strength and guidance. Lord help me, to help him.

We'll manage. We'll be fine. She turned, carrying the light to her own room. It'll be okay -- somehow.

As she trod up the staircase, she felt stronger. A resolve was building in her. It will be fine. I'll take care of him until his mother returns. He won't flinch from me again. I'll give him no reason to fear.

She reached the top of the stairs and continued to her room. Tomorrow, she promised, things will be different. I may not be a mother, but I will do my best for him. I'll do what I can. She ran the back of one hand over her eyes, as if to wipe away a tear – but she surprised herself by not crying.

A small smile graced her as she determined that she would be capable from now on. It wouldn't do to cower in her home any longer. As she sat the lamp on her bed stand, she would be strong from now on – not for herself but for the boy – for Ezra.

Yes, she thought, standing straight and tall. If nothing else, perhaps his stay with me will be a pleasant memory. It seems like he might not have many of them.

Then, with a quaking breath, she sighed, "What have I gotten myself into?"

[(*)][(*)][(*)][(*)]

"Ezra," Josiah said as he strode into the saloon. 

"Mr. Sanchez," Ezra returned, lifting his head to nod at the preacher. "Pleasant day?"

"So far so good," Josiah returned.

"Glad to hear it." Ezra dipped his pen into the inkwell that sat before him. He sat at the table near the front of the saloon, taking advantage of the early afternoon sunlight.

"Writing your mother?" Josiah asked with a smile. "She's a remarkable woman."

"That she is," Ezra responded.

"When's she coming back for a visit?" Josiah inquired as he circled around the table. "I'd like to take her out for dinner and an evening's entertainment."

Ezra snorted a laugh. "Oh, she'd like to take you for far more than what it costs for dinner."

"She coming soon?"

Standish shrugged. "She does as she pleases. I never know when she deigns to visit me. It's always a surprise."

"Remarkable woman," Sanchez repeated warmly. "Tell her that I asked after her and wish her well."

"I will when I write her," he stated.

"Oh," Josiah responded, glancing to the careful penmanship of the gambler. "If not Maude…" and he raised his gaze to meet Ezra's eyes.

Ezra made a face. "Dare I say, 'none of your business'?"

"Fair enough," Josiah said, taking a chair across near him. 

Perhaps realizing that he'd been rude, Ezra sighed and said, "It's only a quick note to someone I knew in my youth, just enough to let her know that I'm alive and well. It's of little consequence."

Josiah nodded. "An old friend?" he tried.

"A caretaker," Ezra responded, and then restated, "An aunt, a dear and precious woman who meant a great deal to me when I was young."

"Ah," Josiah said, cocking his head to regard the conman. He glanced to the envelope, where he could see only the last part of the address. "She's in Saint Louis?"

Ezra smiled deviously. "The message is only routed through that city. She lives elsewhere."

Josiah raised an eyebrow. "So you don't want her to know where you live?"

Ezra paused, looking melancholy, and he gave a little nod. "She took me in," he said quietly, "when she very easily could have turned me out. My mother had played an awful ruse on her, and yet she did not hold it against me. She deserved better than that. I send her occasional missives to let her know that I am well so that she won't worry." He paused to look Josiah in the eye, "Because she would worry. I give her enough news to put her at ease. But she doesn't need to know the full truth about me, does she?" And he gave Josiah a knowing look as he gestured to his colorful attire. "She expected great things of me, none of which came to pass. I am not exactly a proper gentleman."

"Perhaps not," Josiah said.

"She wished better of me," Ezra continued. "The truth would be unpleasant for her."

"Now, Ezra, you aren't all bad." Josiah smile a little, to show that he was joking, but Ezra just gave him a curious look.

"The less she knows the better," Ezra said, blotting the page he'd written.

"I'd like to meet her someday," Josiah said, smiling and showing his teeth.

Ezra frowned. "You, Mr. Sanchez, are dangerous around women. Even worse than our Mr. Wilmington." He shook his head. "In any case, you will not have that opportunity." He settled the pen in its stand. "I've done everything I could to keep her from tracing the letters back to me. Let her believe what she will and leave reality out of the picture." 

"So, you send her lies?" Josiah asked, gesturing to the letter.

With a roll of his eyes, Ezra said, "I'd never lie go her. I simply don't tell the truth."

"And that means…"

"I only say so much. The devil is in the details, or so they say." Ezra gathered up his work. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've been wasting away this lovely day." He stood and offered Josiah a smile. "Good day, sir," he said as he turned and made his way to the stairs at the back of the saloon

Josiah sighed and shook his head, never knowing for sure what to make of that man.

THE END


End file.
